


Better Late Than Never

by InnerLilith



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Harry Potter, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Implied Getting Together, M/M, Mild Verbal Humiliation, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Praise Kink, Quidditch Player Harry Potter, Quidditch team manager Draco Malfoy, Shameless Smut, Top Draco Malfoy, also a teeny bit of fluff, wildly unprofessional behavior among colleagues
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 16:20:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,783
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29228355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InnerLilith/pseuds/InnerLilith
Summary: Draco is team manager for Puddlemere United, and Harry, their star seeker, won't leave him alone. For the past two years he's been teasing Draco relentlessly, mock flirting with him ridiculously and shamelessly at every opportunity. It's all Draco can do to ignore him and remain professional. But he's finally reached the end of his rope.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 16
Kudos: 339





	Better Late Than Never

Draco signed gratefully as he shut his office door behind him, scrubbing his hands over his face and loosening his tie, stalking over to the corner cabinet and pouring himself a finger of scotch. He drained it and sagged into the dark leather wingback chair behind his desk, running a hand through his hair, tipping his head back, allowing his eyelids to droop. _Merlin_ , he could not wait to be shot of this job. He opened the second right drawer of his desk, just to check—his contract with the Tornadoes, proofed by his solicitor and ready to be signed on Tuesday. Sighing happily, he poured himself another finger, and allowed a slow smile to steal across his face. Two more days. Only two more days, and he could put in his notice with management and get the fuck out of there. He’d done his duty, balanced the books, brokered some truly outstanding trades, hired an assistant coach with real potential. He could go with a clean conscience. He hadn’t scarpered when things became… difficult, for him. He had stuck it out for two bloody years, and now he’d just watched his team win for the last time before they weren’t his team anymore, and he felt something loosen inside of his chest. He started grinning stupidly, he couldn’t stop. Finally, no more Potter. No more Potter showing up late for Friday morning team meetings, dashing in with his jumper crooked and his hair on end, a half-eaten energy bar in hand. No more Potter rolling his eyes and signing off on whatever papers Draco shoved under his nose without reading them, then storming into his office two days later insisting that he would never have agreed to that photo shoot with _Witch Weekly_ and can’t Draco please cancel it? No more Potter in the lunchroom, inhaling food and ribbing his teammates, winking at Draco across the room. No more Potter popping into Draco’s office, perching his pert little professional athlete arse on the corner of Draco’s desk, sitting back on his hands and kicking his feet, batting his eyelashes and asking _what’s a boy gotta do to get a raise around here?_

It had started about a year into Draco’s tenure with Puddlemere. Just a bit of subtle flirting, at first. Draco hadn’t known how to react, couldn’t allow himself to believe it could be true. He worried that he had tipped his hand, stared too long at Potter’s bare torso that one time in the locker room. He resolved to maintain professional boundaries. But then, predictably, Potter just kept _escalating_. Teasing Draco constantly with juvenile sexual innuendo, biting his lip, standing too close. And Draco knew he was being messed with. He knew Potter couldn’t actually be hitting on him. The overtures were too over the top, and he was _Harry Potter_ , and he must simply find it funny, for reasons Draco didn’t understand and didn’t care to examine. It hurt a bit, actually, that Potter had chosen to inflict this particular joke on Draco, when Draco was so helplessly attracted to him. It made him sharp—tense and cold around Potter, which only seemed to spur him on further. And he was so guileless, Draco couldn’t even blame him; he was still so _good_ , singlehandedly running the kids camp every summer, showing up to every charity ball without complaint, unfailingly kind to every staff member. It was probably just a harmless bit of fun to him. So Draco steadfastly ignored every infuriating jab. He remained perfectly restrained at all times, the very picture of composure in the face of Potter’s constant tormenting. It wasn’t easy, what with Potter always sauntering around in his leathers, looking unfairly delectable, winning matches left and right and grinning at Draco afterwards, sidling up to him at the afterparty and murmuring _how did I look out there? I’ve got other moves, you know, I could show you later…_ Sometimes he wanted to throttle Potter, wanted to throw him bodily out the office window overlooking the training pitch. Other times he wanted to call Potter’s bluff, push him up against the desk and get his mouth on him, pin his hands and fuck him into submission, into quiescence. But he never gave in, of course. He betrayed not the faintest hint of emotion; nothing cracked his façade. And now, finally, he was almost free—

A knock at the door.

Draco knew that knock. He also knew that the person on the other side of it wasn’t going to wait for a response before—

“Potter,” Draco growled, as Harry pushed open the door, grinning brightly.

“Hullo,” he strolled forward, taking a swig of beer, leaning the side of his hip against Draco’s desk. “You’ve skipped out on the party. You didn’t even stick around long enough to congratulate me.”

He was fresh out of the showers, wearing a clean kit. Draco swallowed and gestured with his scotch, “I’ve got my own party right here, thanks.” He had stuck around in the lounge just long enough to clink glasses with the executive team and clap Wood on the back for a job well done. By this time, he knew exactly how long Potter took in the showers and had departed the festivities just in time.

Harry pouted, “Why the long face? I caught the snitch, you know, I’m sure you saw,” he smirked. Draco stared at him stonily.

He waggled his eyebrows, “Come on, we won, don’t you want to celebrate?”

Draco clenched his teeth, counting to ten in his head.

Harry stared at him for a moment, then dropped his gaze and dragged it slowly back up to meet Draco’s. “You haven’t got anything to say to me? No _well done, Harry_? No compliments on my,” he licked his lips, “performance, today?”

And Draco finally, inexplicably, snapped. He drained his drink and slammed it on his desk. “Christ, Potter, do you _ever_ stop?”

Harry blinked; his lips parted in surprise. Then he smiled, slow and sneaky, like he had Draco right where he wanted him, which, Draco supposed (cursing himself internally), he probably did.

“Oh, Draco,” he purred, “Have I finally hit a nerve?”

He winked, and Draco’s fingers tightened around the glass.

“What’s the matter, you don’t want me?” He frowned playfully, “I don’t think that’s it… I think you’re just wound too tight—"

“Shut up, Potter,” he hissed.

“I’d shut up with your cock in my mouth—”

And _that_ —that was too far. Potter had never dared proposition him so explicitly, so lewdly, and before Draco could think, he was out of his chair and had him against the wall, pinning him with a forearm to the chest. “I’m done,” he gritted out, “with this little game you’re playing—”

“I dunno what game you’re talking about,” he gasped, breathless, “but I think I’m winning right about now, wouldn’t you say—” and he was still _smiling_ , the utter bastard, and Draco couldn’t take it anymore—

“Shut up,” he grabbed Potter by the jaw, digging his thumb in, and when he opened his mouth to protest Draco slid two fingers in, pressing down on his tongue so he couldn’t speak. “I said shut _up_ , Potter, and leave me the fuck alone.” Potter was panting wetly around his fingers and Draco pushed further back towards his throat, wanting to make him gag, wanting to feel his breath stutter, “I’m not your fucking _joke_ ,” he hissed, and then he felt the low reverberation of a moan from the back of Potter’s throat, and Potter closed his lips around Draco’s fingers and _sucked_ —

“ _Fucking_ Merlin,” he gasped, hauling himself off and staggering back against the desk, wiping his hand on his trousers, “what in the ever-loving _fuck_ , Potter—”

He broke off. Potter hadn’t started that. He was still on the wall where Draco had left him, wild-eyed, chest heaving. Draco had slammed him into the wall. He had grabbed his face and stuck his _fingers_ in Potter’s _mouth._ Potter was technically his employee and Draco had just _physically assaulted him_ on company property, good god what was wrong with him?

“Oh god, I—” his voice cracked, and he drew himself up, smoothing over the lines of his suit. “Please allow me to apologize, Harry. I should never— I shouldn’t have lost my temper like that, that was absolutely inexcusable, no amount of provocation could— I’m really, I’m so sorry—"

“Draco,” Harry was in front of him, all of a sudden, reaching out a hand, fingers brushing tentatively across Draco’s shoulder. He swallowed. “I’m sorry too, I shouldn’t have— I think… we need to talk.”

Draco nodded tightly, crossed his arms protectively over his chest. Here it was then. It was all going to come out now, why Draco was so stuck on Potter’s little jokes, why he had reacted so excessively just then, and it was almost funny, really, because Draco had kept his head down and buried his attraction to Potter for _years_ , and he’d only had to hold out for two more days and he’d fucked it up.

“I thought you— You were really angry… You said I’m playing a game with you… do you think I— that I’ve been making fun of you or something? All this time?”

Draco frowned. What kind of stupid question was that? “What else would you expect me to think?” he asked flatly.

“You might think… that I actually wanted you?”

Draco laughed. He couldn’t help it. Just one, disbelieving scoff. “You.” He paused. “Want me?”

It was Harry’s turn to laugh—loud, incredulous. “Are you serious? I’ve been behaving like an absolute _wanker_ , throwing myself at you for _two bloody years_ , and you think it was all some elaborate practical fucking _joke_?”

Draco blinked. “It… does sound a bit stupid when you say it like that...”

“A bit stupid! A bit–!” Harry threw his hands up and raked them through his hair, emitting a strangled sort of noise. “Everyone on the team makes fun of me, d’you know that? How fucking desperate I am to get your attention, how much of a fool I’m willing to make of myself,” he laughed again, slightly hysterical. “I thought if I made it so painfully obvious you’d have to crack eventually—I see how you look at me sometimes when you think I’m not paying attention, you know—I thought if I acted absurdly enough you might finally react, and instead I find out you actually deluded yourself into thinking that I’ve just been _messing_ with you? For fun? What am I, a fucking psychopath?”

Draco cleared his throat. “I don’t think you’re a psychopath, Harry. I— I may have been engaging in some, ah, shall we say, self-protective mental gymnastics…”

Harry jabbed his fingers into Draco’s chest. “Unbelievable.” He shook his head, “You are un-fucking-believable! I can’t even—” his eyes narrowed. “Wait a minute. Self-protective?” He raised an expectant eyebrow. Draco opened his mouth to say _yes_ , he wanted him too, _yes_ , he was stupid about it too, but he couldn’t get the words out, so he just stood there gaping in a highly undignified manner.

Harry crossed his arms. “Well, my cards are on the table,” he snorted, muttering under his breath, “ _And have been, you thickheaded prat_.” Draco swallowed, still sluggish with the shock of Harry’s revelation, frozen in place. Harry rolled his eyes, filling the silence, “I mean, you did stick your fingers in my mouth, so I sort of think I was right and you _are_ interested,” his eyes twinkled.

“Oh god,” Draco groaned, “I really am sorry, that was out of line.”

“Yeah,” Harry shifted back and forth on his heels. “Yeah, it probably was, but, erm, I really— I really liked it…”

Draco’s mind and body snapped back together, heat flooding through his veins. He lifted slowly off the table, straightening up to his full height, looking down at Harry, waiting.

“I, er—” Harry flushed deeply, steeled himself with a breath, “You know how I needle you, I mean like, you’re so unruffled all the time? And how I’m always baiting you—” he broke off, biting his lip. “I mean, I was trying to get a rise out of you, to get you to admit you wanted me too, to get—anything, really, but…”

“Go on,” Draco said softly, low and smooth, like syrup.

“I wanted to get you riled up,” He let out in a rush. “I— I thought you might be… something like, like how you were just now.” Draco heard his quick, anxious inhale, “Except, not actually mad at me,” he finished sheepishly.

Draco took one long, measured breath. The base of his skull was tingling. “And why did you think I would be… like that?”

Harry laughed nervously, eyes darting to the floor and back up, “Well you’re always all—” he gestured at Draco’s sharp suit, “tightly buttoned, and like, when I don’t fill out my equipment reimbursement forms on time, or when I’m rude to the press, or something— you get all—” he flushed, “frustrated and stern about it.” He sucked in a deep breath, “It’s um, it’s really hot?”

Draco closed his eyes for a moment, savoring the prickling heat spreading down his spine. Then he smiled, predatory, sharklike. “You like my buttons, do you?”

Harry nodded.

Draco reached out, brushed a thumb across Harry’s lower lip, grazed his fingernails along Harry’s jawline. “You want me to be… _stern_ with you?”

Another nod. Dropping his hand, he walked back and sank into his desk chair, fingers steepled, knees spread.

“Go on, then,” he said, quiet, unhurried. “Get undressed.”

Harry inhaled sharply, fumbling with the laces of his kit, peeling off his layers, flushing under Draco’s gaze. And gods, he looked just as good as Draco knew he would, his compact frame thrumming with repressed energy, taut muscles shifting under his skin. Draco made no move to undress himself. He simply watched Harry, the roll of his shoulders, the flat planes of his stomach clenching as he moved.

Naked, he looked at Draco, biting his lip, breathing shallow. Draco cocked his head, skimming his eyes up and down Harry’s body.

“Do you have any idea,” he began mildly, “what it’s been like for me?”

Harry shook his head once, quick.

“Watching you parade around the halls, swishing your little arse around my office, dangling yourself in front of me when I thought I couldn’t have you, teasing me like that every fucking day?”

Harry gasped and his eyes snapped to Draco’s for a moment, his body rocking forward and then stilling abruptly, “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“What was that?” Draco asked sharply.

“I’m sorry I was always provoking you, I—"

“Come here.”

Harry moved hesitantly, coming to stand in between Draco’s legs, shifting restlessly. Gods, Draco wanted to make him kneel, but he didn’t think he had the patience just then. He beckoned, and Harry climbed cautiously into his lap, straddling him, gingerly resting his hips against Draco’s, letting out a soft whimper. He ran his hands across Draco’s chest, down the line of buttons on his crisp white shirt, rocking his hips just a little bit—

“Hands behind your back,” Draco growled, and Harry obeyed, clasping his hands together, another soft noise escaping his throat.

Draco dropped his hands to Harry’s knees, ghosting his fingers up his muscled thighs, up over his torso and down his arms, back up and around his neck, tangling in his hair.

“Is this what you want?”

Harry whined, rocking his hips forward more firmly.

“You want me to fuck you?” Draco breathed, and Harry shuddered, hard, nodding, “ _Yes_ , please.”

Draco wrapped his fingers around Harry’s neck, drawing him in, just brushing their lips together as his other hand skated down, lower—

Harry whimpered high in his throat, bucking against Draco’s touch at his rim, and Draco couldn’t hold back anymore. He pulled Harry in, kissing him, pressing their bodies together, fumbling to conjure some lube and slide again against the entrance to Harry’s body, ever so gently, feeling his body tighten with desire as Harry writhed in his lap.

Draco pressed just one finger inside and Harry moaned, rocking down insistently, but he kept his pace slow and languid, until Harry was begging, “More, _please_ , come on, I’m ready—”

“You’re ready for more?” Draco asked, soft and dangerous, withdrawing and pressing two fingers up against his entrance, just the slightest pressure, and when Harry groaned _yes_ , he asked, “Tell me, Harry, _why_ —” he pushed in barely a centimeter and withdrew, “Why shouldn’t I play with you a bit, when you’ve been teasing me all this time?”

Harry’s eyes snapped to his just as he pressed back in, a little further. “I— _please_ — oh _god_ —” his hips chased Draco’s fingers, grinding down. Draco dipped lazily back in, barely brushing against Harry’s prostate and withdrawing again, circling his rim, and Harry bowed back taut, arms flexing behind him. He looked so beautiful, flushed and panting, holding himself like an offering in Draco’s lap.

“You should see yourself right now,” he murmured, pressing back in a little more insistently, “You’re so gorgeous, you’re driving me mad—”

At his words, Harry flushed deeply and curled in on himself with a soft sound of pleasure, and Draco wanted to see that reaction again, so he asked, “You like that? You like hearing what you do to me?” And Harry nodded, rolling his hips and moaning quietly as Draco started to scissor his fingers, stretching him open.

“I’ve thought about this every day,” Draco said quietly, and Harry’s eyes widened and his mouth opened soundlessly. “Every time you walk by in your leathers, every time you sit on my fucking _desk_ —”

Harry’s hips jerked as he whimpered, “Draco, please—”

“Please what?” He nudged a third finger against Harry’s entrance, “Tell me what you want.”

“I want— I want you—” Harry bucked shamelessly, fucking himself on Draco’s fingers.

“Did you think about it? I know you did, I want to know— I want to know what you thought about—”

Harry dipped his head, dropping his gaze down, “Fuck, ok yeah, I— I used to think, if I came in here and got you worked up enough, you might—” he broke off, arching his back and bearing down, “ _God_ , I wanted you to— to put me on my knees, or— bend me over the desk—" He shuddered and curled back in, and Draco took advantage of the moment to stroke over his prostate, making him keen.

“Mmm, I do like the sound of all that,” he hummed, “But right now I think I want you just like this.”

“ _Yes_ , I’m ready, come on, I want— want you inside me—”

“Undo my trousers,” Draco panted, unwilling to stop fingering Harry, curling his other hand around the top of his thigh. Harry brought his arms around with a gasp, his fingers clumsy and frantic.

“Can I touch you?” He breathed, and Draco nodded, whispered _yes_. With a muttered spell, Harry’s hand was slick and dripping, and when he curled his fingers around Draco’s length he had to grit his teeth and squeeze his eyes shut to keep from coming right then. He withdrew his fingers, cradling Harry’s hips, and their eyes met. Draco felt pinned to the chair with the force of his arousal. And then Harry shifted forwards, positioning himself over Draco’s cock and sinking down on a sharp, broken moan. And they were kissing again, Draco’s hands roaming over Harry’s back and tangling in his hair, Harry clutching his face and moaning into his mouth.

When Harry’s movements above him grew increasingly frantic, Draco grabbed his wrists, bringing his hands around his back again. Harry arched his back, gasping and flushing.

“Slow down,” Draco squeezed his wrists tight, “And keep your hands behind your back, even when I let go.” Harry nodded, biting his lip. Draco settled his hands on Harry’s hips. “Go on,” he said hoarsely. Harry sucked in a breath, and Draco watched the muscles in his thighs rippling as he slowly levered himself up and back down, letting out a soft, shuddering _oh_ as he seated himself fully on Draco’s cock.

“I like you like this, all spread out,” Draco trailed a finger along Harry’s collarbone and down his sternum, over the ridges of his abdominals, through the trail of dark hair leading down from his navel. “Look at you,” he murmured, circling his thumb around the head of Harry’s cock, and dragging it through the slit, “You’re so wet for me.” Harry flushed and whimpered, his hips jerking forward, rutting into the wet patch on Draco’s shirt. Draco watched as another drop of precome welled up, “You’re leaking all over,” he continued, pressing his thumb in again, eliciting a stuttered whine from Harry, “This is quite a nice shirt and you’re absolutely ruining it.” Harry gasped and stiffened, rolling his hips back, panting, “I’m sorry, I couldn’t— I—”

“Don’t apologize,” Draco brushed his thumb across Harry’s cheekbone, leaving a shiny smear, “I like it.” Harry shivered. “If I’d known you would be like this… God, I wouldn’t have waited so long.”

“Like what?” Harry whispered, eyes downcast, flicking his tongue over his lower lip.

“So needy,” he murmured, and Harry shivered and squeezed his eyes shut. “So obedient,” he continued, “keeping your hands back there like I asked and fucking yourself open on my cock.” Harry’s whole body spasmed, and Draco pushed a bit farther, “I had no idea you’d be so desperate, such a little slag for it,” Harry shuddered violently, and Draco brought a hand back up, sliding two fingers back into his mouth. Harry whined around them, sucking, and Draco couldn’t help thrusting up, just once. “That’s it,” he whispered, and Harry tightened around him, his spine curling in, “Just like that,” he continued, “You’re doing so well, Harry, you feel— _gods_ —so good.” And Harry moaned frantically around his fingers, thrusting his hips erratically. “Fuck, Harry,” Draco growled, sitting up, tilting Harry’s hips in and pressing their torsos together, “You look so hot like this,” Harry made a high, desperate sound and Draco slipped his hand around between them, trapping Harry’s cock against the fine, damp fabric of his shirt. “I want to watch you come, Harry, come on, make yourself come,” and then Harry went rigid, and shuddered, his whole body tensing as he cried out, and Draco felt the warm wetness seeping into his shirt and spreading across his stomach, and Harry went boneless on top of him, finally bringing his arms around to clutch weakly at the collar of Draco’s shirt.

Draco stroked soothingly through Harry’s hair and down his back, whispering in his ear how good he had been, and steadfastly ignoring the fact that he hadn’t come yet, was still hard and throbbing inside of Harry. And after a moment, Harry noticed it too, lifting his head from Draco’s shoulder with a hitch of breath, saying, soft and uncertain, “You still—” Draco wound his hands around Harry’s hips and thrust up, gently, and Harry whimpered.

“I won’t be long,” he exhaled shakily. “You said— you wanted to suck me off or you wanted me to bend you over the desk—” Harry nodded, and Draco gritted his teeth, “Pick one.” Harry moved above him, biting down a low, shaky noise, and said, “Desk.”

“Are you sure?” Draco frowned, “You’re not—” he tilted his hips and Harry hissed out a breath, “Too sensitive? Sore?”

“I want it,” Harry breathed, “I want you to fuck me.”

Draco let out a strangled moan, and tipped them up, pulling Harry off him and bending him over, his limbs loose and easy. And when Draco nudged at his entrance he made a pitiful, choked sound, and tilted his hips up, offering himself to Draco, and it was almost too much to bear. Draco seized his hips and pushed in, fucking him hard, and Harry cried out, arms drawn in toward his chest, fingers flexing. And Draco couldn’t stand seeing it, Harry, who he had wanted for years, who had been so galling, so infuriating, now so pliant beneath his hands, letting Draco fuck him into oblivion, just _taking it_ — “God, Harry,” he moaned, “You’re so— I’ve wanted you—you’re so good, you’re fucking perfect—” and Harry let out one thin, high, whimper, and Draco’s hips drove forward and stayed there, grinding in as he seized up and then stilled, chest heaving.

He stayed for a few moments, swaying on his feet, catching his breath, and then he slid his arms under Harry’s torso, leaning over to fold himself over Harry’s back, “Are you alright?” he murmured, and Harry nodded, slurring, _yeah_ , so Draco pulled out, eliciting a gasp and a shiver from Harry, who stayed draped over the desk, naked and insensible, while Draco put his own clothes to rights and cast gentle cleaning spells over them both. He retrieved Harry’s kit from the floor and knelt beside him, coaxing first one leg in and then the other, maneuvering him back into his clothes and lacing him up, and then sitting back into his chair and drawing Harry down, sideways into his lap. Harry nuzzled into his neck, humming, and the gesture was so affectionate, so open, that it pulled the question right out of him, the one he was afraid to ask.

“What now?”

Harry made a sleepy noise, snuggling into Draco’s chest and then laughing, “Well, as much as I’d like to stay here for a quick nap, you’re actually quite bony,” Draco could feel him grinning and pinched his side gently, eliciting a little yelp. Harry pulled back and turned his face up, “And I’ll be missed, so I suppose we’d better go back to the party soon?”

Draco snorted, wondering whether he should clarify, but then Harry continued, his grin widening, “Anyways, I’ve got to tell the rest of the team, they’ll be chuffed I finally seduced you,” he winked, and Draco rolled his eyes.

“Come on, Harry, you know we can’t tell them—”

Harry stiffened in his arms, hurt flashing across his face.

“Oh… I er, didn’t know that, actually? Sorry, I won’t—”

Draco brought a hand up to Harry’s face, tilting his chin back up, “No, Harry,” he laughed gently, “I mean, it’s against policy for team members and management to… fraternize... If anyone finds out there’ll be a humiliating inquiry and we could both face sanctions.”

“Oh,” Harry relaxed, smiling shyly, “I thought… but wait,” he frowned, “so we have to sneak around and we can’t tell anyone? Ever?”

Draco laughed outright. “Well, not _ever_ , we only can’t tell anyone for two days.”

“What—” Harry’s brows drew together in confusion.

“I’m taking a position with the Tornadoes. It’s not official yet so mum’s the word, please. I’m signing the contract on Tuesday and then I’ll put in my leave here.”

“You’re… You’re leaving?” And then, wholly unexpectedly, Draco’s chest clenched as he imagined walking into a new team meeting, one where all the players arrived on time.

“Well,” Harry sighed, “I suppose I can’t be too cut up about it if it means I get to have you. Bloody well timed, actually—” his eyes narrowed, “Wait—Was all this on purpose? Were _you_ planning to seduce _me_?”

Draco’s mouth twisted. “No, I— Well, you were the reason I left, actually, I certainly wasn’t planning _this_ —”

“Me?!” Harry squawked, sitting up indignantly.

“Yes, you and your ridiculous _flirting_ … God, I wanted you, and every day, I thought—”

Harry kissed him.

“I’m sorry,” he said earnestly, “If I’d had any idea you were being so daft,” he rolled his eyes, “I’d have just asked you out. But you’re very intimidating.”

Draco smirked, “Am I?”

“Yes,” Harry nodded emphatically, “And if we have to keep this a secret you’d better not come back to the lounge with me right now because I won’t be able to keep my hands off you. I’ll just go and make a quick round of goodbyes, say I’m feeling tired. Yours or mine?”

Draco blinked, then smiled. “Mine I suppose—I’ll just leave now, and maybe I’ll be able to salvage this poor suit.”

“Oh shove off,” Harry clambered off him, laughing. “Alright then, I’ll be there in, say, thirty minutes? What’s your address?”

Draco wrote it down for him and followed Harry to the door, crowding him up against it, running a knuckle along his jaw and tipping his chin up for a kiss. “Don’t be late, or I’ll be _very_ cross with you,” he murmured.

Harry grinned mischievously as he turned the handle, stepping back into the hallway. “Haven’t you noticed, Draco? I’m _always_ late.”

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this was nearly as fun to read as it was to write! I'm still kind of new at this, so I love and appreciate feedback!!


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